


In You, I Am Reborn

by northernist



Category: Tokyo Ghoul
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, CCG!Hide, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, M/M, Minor Original Character(s), Not Canon Compliant, Secret Relationship, Slow Burn, but then again so is hide, haise is an oblivious little shit, idiots falling in love, loose structure of past canon events, my attempt at a hidekane/haisehide longfic bc this fandom needs more of them, obligatory cannibalism tag...this is tokyo ghoul yall
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-28
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:40:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29047032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/northernist/pseuds/northernist
Summary: Haise notices it the very moment he steps across the threshold—a smell so painfully familiar it floods every sense in his body, eroding any and all coherent thoughts he may have, and drowning out those incessant, taunting little whispers that tug at the loose seams of his conscience.For some reason Haise can't quite put his finger on, he smells like home.Or: In which Sasaki Haise finds himself inexplicably falling for the newest member of his family, and Hide can’t help but fall with him. Only this time, all over again.
Relationships: Kaneki Ken | Sasaki Haise & Nagachika Hideyoshi, Kaneki Ken | Sasaki Haise/Nagachika Hideyoshi
Comments: 19
Kudos: 55





	1. Falter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *taps mic* is this fandom even still alive? 
> 
> So, I'm trying my hand at some Hidekane! Not only that, but it’s going to be a long multichapter fic. At least, an *attempt* at one. I'm very excited to start this fic, and to all who decide to read, I hope you enjoy it because I'm having lots of fun writing this. 
> 
> Regarding the update schedule... that’s something I’ll need to work hard on. I don’t consider myself an extremely busy person, but right now I have a lot on my plate with academics, so I'll do my best to update once every 3ish weeks, if possible. Chapters are hopefully going to be on the longer side, so there’s that. I may be late on some updates - please go easy on me, y’all. T-T
> 
> Aaaaand the lengthy author’s note comes to a wrap. Enjoy chapter one!

Consciousness returns to Hide in fragments, like tiny grains of sand percolating through an impossibly large sieve. 

Disorientation casts a brumous fog over his mind, and once he regains somewhat cognizance, he’s greeted by the onset of a fierce headache. Belatedly, Hide registers the faint sound of rain, then the feeling of it, freezing and wet on his exposed skin. The faint tang of iron invades his mouth—blood, he slowly comes to realize. How much of it, he doesn’t know. He’s lying on his back, now. And his eyes are closed, he thinks. Blackness is all he can see. 

_“—achika. Investi...ika! Investigator Nagachika, do...copy?”_

Distantly, he hears the semi-staticky call of his name. Over and over and over again. Incessant, just like his pounding headache. If anything, the words only serve to exacerbate his pain. 

He’s tired. Drained to the bone. Everything is hurting, yet somehow tinglingly numb at the same time—a painful pins and needles sensation. Maybe if he just lays here for a while, it’ll all go away. Yeah. He likes the sound of that. 

Mind still oscillating on the capricious fence that is his consciousness, Hide waits for the dark to consume him once more. 

_“Hide.”_

Brown eyes fly open at hearing his name again, though only this time spoken in a voice he hasn’t heard in what feels like an eternity. Despite the surge of pain, every muscle fiber in his body suddenly coils with newfound energy, desperate to move as his name rings aloud in his head once more.

_“Hide.”_

The voice serves as his catalyst, fueling the hot rush adrenaline in his veins and driving his body to move. That’s right, he has to live. For his sake. He would have wanted Hide to live. So he has to move.

_Move, Hideyoshi! Move, move,_ move, _dammit—_

_“Nagachika!”_

The voice vanishes with all the quickness of a fleeting shadow, replaced by a lighter, more high pitched and frantic one. Hide’s name blares out from his earpiece, reverberating loudly in his eardrums. Finally, he snaps back to reality. Just as fast as he’d returned to the present, memories of the previous five hours rush back to him all at once. 

The foggy haze in his head clears completely. He remembers now. An interrogation gone wrong when the suspect revealed to be the ghoul they’d been tracking down as a lead for their investigation. A fight had ensued soon after Hide had his suspicions confirmed. The ghoul somehow got the upper hand. Hide vaguely remembers his partner harshly shoving him out of the way before he had the chance to become a kagune-kebab. 

His mind reels to a grinding stop. Wait. His partner. _Yuma._

_“Stay right where you are, Nagachika! I’m on the way.”_ Yuma’s voice, sounding strained and very much labored—probably from running—floods Hide’s ears. A wave of relief washes over him. _His partner is alive. She’s alive, and she’ll be here any second._

Slowly, Hide lifts himself from where he’s unceremoniously sprawled on the cold concrete. _God,_ his body feels like it's made of pure molasses, it’s so freakin’ heavy and slow. Grinding his teeth to conceal the pained hiss that burgeons in his throat, he finally musters enough strength to stand, albeit a bit wobbly. Yep. Definitely the doing of a few fractured bones. 

Giving his head one vigorous shake, he reaches to grab the quinque briefcase that lays discarded a meter from where he stands. Now secured in his hands, he doesn’t waste time on activating the weapon; he feels the way it pulses to life, feels how it forms in his hands, taking shape into the sharp, threatening length of a golden rinkaku blade. He keeps the weapon close to his side, assessing the alleyway he stands in. 

Engaging in combat with what he assumes to be a high rate B ghoul that _might_ just kick his ass this time around has Hide thinking that he’s biting off more than he can probably chew. Since he’s, y’know, a rank 3 investigator and all. Still, he needs to hold his ground for as long as possible as he waits for his partner to arrive on the scene. Fighting this alone won’t be a cakewalk, that much is for certain. But there’s no point in giving up now. 

Not when the prospect guarantees a death that his parents had.

Unconsciously, Hide’s tenacious grip on his quinque’s handle tightens even more, bleaching tan knuckles bone white as the faces of his late dads flash across his vision.

Spiderweb-like bolts of lightning stretch and entangle across the gray sky above, followed closely by a clap of thunder that permeates the October air. 

He senses the ghoul’s presence before he sees them. Without warning, the ghoul he’d encountered earlier leaps down from above, coming to a graceful landing on the wet ground below. 

“It took me long enough to find you,” the female ghoul says, her tone saturated with a hint of annoyance. “Your friend is quite the persistent little nuisance.” 

From the blood and ichor seeping out of the ghoul’s wounds, Hide knows Yuma put up a good fight. She’s not one to relent so easily, nor does she pull her punches— _especially_ against a ghoul. She’s a highly seasoned investigator, after all. 

_“So let’s make this quick!”_ she all but screams before suddenly advancing on Hide, briefly catching the young man off guard.

For a ghoul suffering such deep wounds she sure moves fast, Hide thinks as she darts around the alleyway. The movement kind of reminds him of a pinball machine, the way the ghoul latches onto each edifice and flings her lithe body from one spot to the other. It’s making it hard for Hide to land a decent blow on the ghoul, with all this snapping back and forth, and tracking movements that are much too quick for the human eye to continuously follow. Not to mention he’s starting to feel a little dizzy, courtesy of the evident concussion he’d been graced with earlier. 

Squeezing the handle of his quinque, Hide concentrates on anticipating the ghoul’s movement pattern with meticulous brown eyes. Immediately, he zeroes in on a potential opening. Instinctively, Hide’s feet slide into a defensive stance. Waits for her to make the first move. 

With all the elegance of a tamed hawk descending onto a gloved hand, the ghoul thrusts down from above, midnight purple kagune sprouting from her lower back. Hide parries almost instantly. Despite his best efforts to keep himself grounded, his feet lose traction and stutter backwards across wet concrete from the sheer force of the errant attack. Both air and rain rush against his weapon as he swoops it high above, shielding his upper body from the subsequent set of lethal blows that would have surely sliced straight through his upper half like butter. 

The ghoul moves with the deadly poise of a striking cobra, unlike the erratic movements of other ghouls Hide’s accustomed to fighting. Her two rinkaku kagune violently slash away at his quinque in what he suspects is an attempt to break it. 

Time passes, and her attacks become more vicious in their delivery; Hide manages to only narrowly evade the whiplike motions of her kagune with deft footwork and accurately timed parries. Only occasionally is she able to slip past his defenses and draw blood. Hide’s gotta admit, he’s a little sloppy when he’s on the receiving end of such a ruthless barrage of attacks. Though he can’t exactly blame himself; defense was never his strong suit to begin with.

Kagune clashes with quinque. They continue to move in tandem with the other, dancing a dangerous waltz between human and ghoul; a battle that will prove who prevails in the end. 

The predator, or the prey. 

_Another opening. All he needs is another opening, and he can end this right here and now._ Any advantage he might think he has proves futile so long as the ghoul keeps delivering only long range strikes. He needs her closer. Much closer, and he might just gain the upperhand. 

An idea soon manifests in Hide’s head, and he’s already concocting the beginnings of a risky plan with what little time he has to think. His left hand navigates to grab the arm that holds his quinque, fingers gripping around the drenched material of his uniform’s black sleeves. 

Now or never. Life or death. If he’s able to execute this perfectly, he won’t have to suffer losing a limb.

Well, _another_ limb, that is. 

So Hide raises his right arm high in the air, intent on making it seem like he’s blocking the following attack not with his quinque, but with something a tad bit _different._

Immediately, he can tell by the way the ghoul’s red eyes widen that she falls for the act hook, line, and sinker. She catapults her body through the chilled air with blinding speed, a sickening growl tearing from her throat as she clamps down on the arm Hide oh so invitingly extends out. 

It doesn’t take long for surprise to morph the ghoul’s features as her teeth screech against the surface of cool metal instead of sinking into soft human flesh. Before she has the chance to react, to even think about scrambling away in retreat, Hide’s quinque is already slamming down— _hard_ —on her pale-haired head; against the background noise of torrential downpour around them, he can almost hear a few teeth crack. She sags, collapsing onto the ground and dragging Hide with as he falls to his knees. Behind her, he sees the violet hue of kagune limbs peter out, signifying his apparent victory.

“Idiot,” Hide mutters as he yanks his prosthetic away from the ghoul’s bleeding mouth. For safe measure, he deals one last blow to the ghoul’s solar plexus, sending her tumbling backwards into the alleyway like a ragdoll. 

“Nagachika!” 

_Man_ , is he glad to hear her voice. Hide swivels around on his knees, greeted by the presence of a nearly breathless Matsuo Yuma who’s hunched over with her hands planted on her thighs. Her usually immaculately styled black hair is drenched, sticking wildey to her pale visage. He hopes that the blood dirtying her clothes and face isn’t her own. 

“We’ve got everything we need,” she informs him between panting breaths, gesturing to the brown satchel over her shoulder. “There’s no need to fight anymore.” 

_Already one step ahead of you, Yuma-san,_ Hide wants to say.

Yuma, after finally regaining her breath (bless this woman’s stamina recovery) glances over to the limp body occupying the derelict alleyway.

“I see you’ve already taken care of it.” 

Hide’s eyes briefly follow her gaze to where he’s met with the sight of the lifeless ghoul. He looks away, adopting a more serious expression as he occupies himself with reverting his quinque back into the confines of its briefcase.

Meanwhile, Yuma leans herself against a wall with a long drawn out sigh. Balancing the umbrella she holds to where it sits snugly under her arm, she digs into her coat pocket and snatches both a lighter and pack of cigarettes. Hide watches as the lighter takes its time sputtering to life before she lights the cigarette in one smooth motion. She inhales a longer smoke than usual, clearly exhausted from a long day’s work. 

When her amber eyes go to rove over Hide’s bloodied person, they linger on his right arm for a brief moment. Hide catches her gaze before she averts it, and his free hand unconsciously trails up to grip at the tattered sleeve that exposes the dull silver of his prosthetic. 

Yuma just drags out another puff of smoke through rose-colored lips. “Are you okay, Nagachika?” she asks, a genuine trace of concern etched on her face. 

Hide’s fingers glide over the smooth surface of his arm. Then, to the nasty cuts and scrapes that litter the rest of his body. “Yeah,” he confirms a moment later. A small grin pulls at his lips in an attempt to assuage his partner’s worry. “I think I’ll live.”

That elicits a satisfied huff from the older woman. “Good, good.” 

A blanket of silence soon shrouds over the two—save for the gentle pattering of rain as storm clouds recede above, leaving the night sky empty in their wake.

After collecting themselves for a minute, Yuma propels herself from off the wall and flicks the butt of her cigarette onto the ground. Grinds it out under the sole of her loafer before readjusting the umbrella in her grasp. 

“Grab the cadaver pouch from the car,” she instructs, to which Hide bobs his head at the order. “I’ll do the carrying this time.” That’s somewhat of a relief. Ghoul bodies are a pain in the ass to carry, especially when you’re hurting like hell. In Hide’s specific case, hell a thousand times over.

Examining the extent of his wounds one last time, Yuma flashes Hide a disapproving, almost motherly-type of look. “You, Nagachika,” she begins, snagging his full attention, “are in dire need of a hospital visit.” 

She knocks a knuckled fist to her head two times. “We need to get that concussion fixed before it permanently impedes your case solving abilities. That brain of yours is invaluable, and has gotten us out of a lot of shit. Understand?”

“Yes, ma’am!” He salutes her with two fingers in an enthusiastic response. 

Just as he’s about to go and retrieve the ghoul disposal bag, a series of pained groans and gasps echo from behind. Alarm bells ring to life in his head as he whips around, seeing the formerly-believed-to-be lifeless body now very much alive rousing from where it lays on the ground.

_“Nagachika!”_ Yuma barks out, and instinctively Hide understands what it is he needs to do. The woman regards the struggling ghoul with narrowed eyes as Hide finally stands to his feet, walks over, and with one small gliding motion of his thumb, activates the quinque in his hand. 

He comes to a stop in front of the writhing ghoul—just a little over a meter distance between them. Hide’s presence practically towers over her as he lifts his weapon. Positions the quinque to where it hovers high above her head. 

He’s one swift movement away from dealing the final blow, from putting an end to her long life of suffering until a single hand latches weakly onto his pant leg, rendering the blond stunned. The ghoul raises her head from off the wet concrete. What Hide expects to be met with are the gleam of crimson irises against black sclerae. 

Instead, wavering silver eyes hold his own. The woman’s gaze never strays from Hide’s. 

“D...don’t,” she strains aloud through gurgled, gasping breaths, “Aoi…” 

The blood in Hide’s veins runs ice-cold. He all but freezes in his movement. For the briefest moment, the grip on his weapon loosens, if only slightly. 

He can't tell if it’s rain or tears that rivulet down her bloodied face. “Plea...se. My little sist—”

A tumultuous bang rips through the air from behind, and suddenly there’s a high-pitched whistle in his eardrums. He ignores the whistling. Without looking down, he can feel the ghoul’s hand slacken around his ankle before limping to the ground with a small thud; dead fingers curl inward. His head tilts to look back. Just as fast as she’d drawn her gun, Yuma slides it back into its holster at her side. Q-bullets. The death had been instant. 

Hide doesn’t realize he’d actually flinched at the gunshot until a pair of skeptical amber eyes are on him. 

“It’s dead now.”

Turning to fully face his partner, he nods, albeit a bit shakily. The silent expression she wears tells him more than words could ever. 

_You hesitated._

Hesitation, in their line of work, is what gets you killed. Hesitate, and you die. It’s as simple as that. Hide could have been one step away from making an unrectifiable mistake. He could’ve gotten himself killed, or worse—could have gotten _Yuma_ killed. Then the ghoul could have escaped, eventually taking more innocent lives as a result of Hide’s foolish ineptitude. 

_Could have, could have, could have._

He knows he should be mentally berating himself. Knows he should be feeling some kind gut-wrenching sickness at the fact that things could have easily gone south. But... he doesn’t. _He doesn’t,_ because for some inexplicable reason, Hide can’t help but look down on the ghoul with a sore ache in his chest. He knows he shouldn’t be feeling what it is that churns in the pit of his stomach. Not after having narrowly escaped death’s embrace only just a few minutes ago; not after witnessing his parents’ untimely demise at the hands of their kind. 

Not after what had happened to Ken. 

Yet no matter how hard he tries to fend it off, to suppress it deep down, the feeling never goes away. 

It’s there. 

Contrition—for a _ghoul._

A comforting, near feather-light hand places itself on his left shoulder, dragging Hide from his thoughts. He doesn’t bother meeting Yuma’s eyes. “It happens,” she says softly, suddenly—barely above a whisper. “That scant feeling of mercy.” 

The hand lightly grips his shoulder. A reassuring gesture. “It reminds us that we’re human, Nagachika. It’s what differentiates us from them—that small vestige of empathy.”

The hand slides off. “But don’t let it deter you from what you’re fighting for. Don’t let yourself forget why you joined.”

Her words, though meant to be encouraging, hold only emptiness to Hide, doing little to stave off the unwanted knife-edge feeling of regret that digs deep into his stomach. The feeling only grows bigger and bigger and bigger the longer he stares at the ghoul’s lifeless body. It makes him want to gag. 

When they depart from the alleyway after a job done, Hide tries his best not to look back.

He looks, anyway.

*

  
  
  
  
  
  


Two agonizingly long weeks have passed since his encounter with the female ghoul, and after sustaining a few cracked ribs as well as a _delightful_ concussion, he’d been admitted to the hospital. Per Yuma’s demand, of course. 

His stay had lasted for three days (thankfully, he didn’t have to stay any longer than he had to—hospital food is beyond bland and an affront to what good cooking really is, _and that’s coming from a man who can’t cook to save his life_ ). He was discharged only a little over a week ago, and although most of the pain has subsided thanks to the wicked painkillers his doc prescribed, some soreness still lingers in his muscles; even more so near the attachment site of his newly replaced prosthetic. 

After a while of recovery spent at home, Hide was eventually permitted to return to his work at the CCG; the one exception being that he is to avoid any rigorous activity for the next two weeks. Ultimately meaning he had to do paperwork. Loads of it, too. 

On a more optimistic note, it turns out that their unexpected confrontation with the ghoul had not been fruitless in the long run. Yuma was able to retrieve what it was they were searching for—information that can potentially lead the CCG in the right direction. Luckily, the information was obtained without having to detain the ghoul and send her to Cochlea, where a more _forceful_ approach would have undergone. Hide’s never been one to sit through a torture without his skin crawling. He doesn’t think he ever _will_ , so he’s more than glad it didn’t have to come to that. 

In the days spent cooped up in his apartment, Hide took it upon himself to become more productive. He busied himself with minuscule tasks, along with other trivial things he’s been meaning to work on but keeps putting aside. Fun adult things, such as filing taxes, closing small cases, diving deeper into cases that are still open, stuffing his face in that unnecessarily thick CCG manual book before passing out from sheer exhaustion—you name it. 

The diligence, of course, is a welcome gift, but it only keeps Hide busy for so long. Ever since that day two weeks ago, he’s been finding it increasingly difficult trying to concentrate on assignments, his mind inevitably drifting back to that alleyway; to a certain pair of pleading silver eyes. 

He’s sitting at his desk in the CCG’s 20th ward building now, absentmindedly gnawing on the end of his pen as those eyes appear before him once again, thrusting him back into that alleyway. The death replays in his head like a broken record.

In all the eleven months Hide’s been working for the CCG, he has yet to take a ghoul’s life. Sure, he’s fought many—that’s to be expected, even as a rank 3 investigator—but it always falls to his partner,Yuma, to eradicate ghouls. 

He knows the day will come when he has to be the one to do the taking. What concerns him the most, though, is that there will be a time where he finds himself in a similar situation, and when that time does inevitably come, Hide isn't sure what he'll do if he has to stare down the length of his weapon and into the eyes of a terrified ghoul; into eyes that remind him so much of a person he'd known and loved. 

Hide's gnawing ceases as his mind drifts further. The pen lowers from his face. 

Aoi. She has a little sister. 

_No_ , he corrects himself mentally. _Had._

Knowing the CCG, the other ghoul has likely already been eradicated, as well as any other ghouls she was associated with. Family, friends, colleagues. More than likely being tracked and hunted down this very second.

Hide drops the pen onto his desk. Leans back in his office chair, banishing his train of thought completely as he runs his hands down his face. Rolling his arms in an attempt to eschew the tension building between his shoulder blades, he lets loose a heavy sigh. He’s about to return his focus to the task at hand before a feminine voice from behind punctures through his next thought, capturing his attention. 

“Investigator Nagachika.” All the hairs on the back of his neck bristle. Swiveling around in his chair, his gaze meets the steel blue eyes of one intimidating Mado Akira. What is she doing in the 20th ward? Whatever the reason may be, she’s here now, standing a few meters from where he sits at his desk. Her hands are clutching what appears to be a stack of pristine-white papers. Hide suppresses a long groan. “A word, please.” 

That doesn’t sound promising at all. Rising from his seat and anticipating the worst, he walks over to his superior until he’s directly in front of her. Although he’s only a head taller than the blonde woman, the feel of her presence towers over him. “To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure, Mado-san?” he asks, a smidge of hesitation tinting his voice.

“I’m glad to see you’re recovering just fine,” she begins, and some of Hide’s worrying abates as he cracks a sheepish grin in response, muttering a small _‘thank you, thank you.’_

Her next words, however, throw him completely off. “You’re being transferred.” 

Oh. That’s…certainly not what he was expecting.

“Aaaand straight to the point. You’re as straightforward as ever, Mado-san,” he jokingly says with a wave of his hand, to which his superior’s face remains eerily vacant. His hand twitches, going to scratch the back of his neck awkwardly. “Uh, does this mean I’m being demoted?” 

“The contrary, actually.” That garners a surprised look from the younger man. Well, he certainly did not see that coming. 

“Here.” Abruptly deposited in his hands is the same heavy stack of files she’d been carrying— _personal_ files of individuals, he notes, when his fingers curiously filter through the papers. Brown eyes drink in a few words and sentences from each. Every file is extremely detailed and _very_ much classified. His mind reels at the fact that he’s being allowed to peer through files with ‘CLASSIFIED’ printed in bold red letters at the top. He stares, dumbfounded expression and all. 

“I… I gotta admit, you’ve lost me, ma’am.” Hide lowers the papers to his side, averting his eyes back to Akira. “I’m being moved to a new team? What about my current partner?”

“It’s an interim adjustment,” she supplies nonchalantly. “For the time being, you’ll be working together with a new squad on the Dollmaker investigation. As for Investigator Matsuo, we have her assigned to a different case entirely.”

New squad? He’s no longer working alongside his partner? _Why in the hell is all this happening so suddenly?_

“If you don’t mind my asking, but...why move me to this squad in particular? I don’t think I’m even qualified for a promotion right now.”

“Are you questioning the authority of your superior, Nagachika?” She raises a single blonde brow. Intimidatingly so. 

Hide pales, frantically waving his hands in the air. “N-no! Not at all! It’s just…”

Akira only has to lift one slender finger to make Hide clamp his mouth shut. She crosses her arms. “You’re selling yourself short when already you’ve proven yourself by making big strides in gathering information for this case. With your exceptional deductive skills, the squad will gain a much needed advantage. Have you truly forgotten how much you’ve contributed to this investigation so far?” Damn. He was not expecting such praise today from Mado Akira of all people, but it’s definitely not unwanted. 

“You’ll also be earning a pay raise,” she throws in suddenly, and the thought of a pay raise almost has Hide fully on board with the idea of transferring. “Though not by much, it is still a decent amount.”

Hey, what can he say? More money is more money.

For a brief moment, he deliberates over this new information, head raised to look pensively at the ceiling above. A pay raise sounds absolutely divine, since he’s barely making it by every week with the piss poor excuse of a salary he produces now. However, acquainting himself with a brand new set of folks doesn’t exactly sound all that exciting, and he isn’t entirely fond of the fact that he won’t be working with Yuma anymore, either. 

“Can you handle this transfer, Investigator?” Akira inquires, swaying the young man’s attention back to her.

“Won’t be a problem at all, Mado-san,” he assures her with words she’ll be satisfied to hear.

That earns a small smile from his superior. “Excellent. Pack whatever it is you need by Thursday of this week and we’ll have you transferred to the first ward by then. We can converse about the stipulations of your transfer that morning.”

Two days from now, huh? Hide thinks he can work with that. As for the stipulations? Fine by him, too. Meeting all kinds of demands are practically in the CCG job description. 

Pivoting on her heel, Akira glances back one last time to give him a final word of encouragement. “I expect you’ll help us reach a breakthrough in this case, Rank 2 Hideyoshi. Good luck.” 

Hide hopes, for his sake, that he manages to find that breakthrough, too.

  
  
  


*

  
  
  


Later that night while examining the (fatally boring) personal files of each individual in this so-called ‘Quinx Squad’, Hide’s heart comes damn near close to short circuiting when his eyes roam over the last file’s contents—a file containing a single black-and-white image of an all too familiar face. Every bit of air drains from his lungs, as if he’s suddenly forgotten how to breathe altogether. 

Hide stares at the name Sasaki Haise for what feels like hours, and it stares back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments, constructive criticism, bookmarks and kudos are more than appreciated so that I can make the best longfic this ship deserves.


	2. New Beginnings

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot begin to thank you all for the kind comments I received in the last chapter, as well as the kudos and bookmark; it really made my month. As a result, here’s a longer chapter. Like, 7,200 words long. Yeah. I really poured my best efforts into this, so enjoy chapter two!

Kaneki is alive.

Kaneki is alive, and Hide is still trying to wrap his mind around that fact twenty two hours and thirty seven minutes later. 

To say the least, it’s been a very long and grueling two days, with the hours dragging along at a sloth’s pace. Work today provided no respite to Hide’s constantly racing mind. In actuality, it had only managed to pile more unneeded stress onto Hide’s shoulders until halfway through the day he felt like he’d keel over and die from the sheer weight of it. Pair that with the exhaustion gnawing away at him and well, you have Hide’s current state. 

To be frank, he still feels like he’s about to pass out even as he lays here on his bed, slowly tracing the cool surface of his prosthetic in an attempt to keep himself grounded in the present. 

When his mind strays too far, that’s when he’s thrown back into that dank alleyway. 

Hide’s fingers glide up and down the expanse of slightly chipped metal, where sunkissed skin and cords of sinew would have originally been, once upon a time. Where they _had_ been, only just a few years ago. 

He stares up at the ceiling. Watches the overhead fan whisk around and around and around until he grows dizzy enough to pull his eyes away.

Tan fingers never wander from their place on his prosthetic as his eyes flutter closed. He squeezes them shut, as if it’ll somehow drown out the small world that is his cramped apartment. 

Just over two years ago, Hide had given his own arm in hopes that Kaneki would live. Just over two years ago, Hide had thought he would never see him again. 

In retrospect, he didn’t expect to wake up in a hospital bed the very next day, nor did he expect to hear about Eyepatch’s sudden disappearance. The rumors soon after had spread like ravenous wildfire. 

In hiding. On the run. Left the country. 

Dead.

He never did believe that last one. At least, he tried not to. 

Hide doesn’t forget the countless nights spent cooped up in his apartment, thumb scrolling through the never ending list of texts he’d sent to his friend; texts that Kaneki ignored—probably for good reason, he knows—but try as he might, Hide still can’t help the anger that occasionally bubbles to the surface. The desperation of trying to fend off the near-irresistible urge of throwing his phone against the wall. Crying himself hoarse. Forgetting to eat; refusing to eat. The restless nights—Hide’s well acquainted with those, the kind of sleepless nights that practically blend into the next for days on end; they were a common occurrence. _They still are,_ two years later. And all the nightmares that come with them. 

But now he knows. Knows for a fact that Kaneki is alive. With a different name, sure, and for some unusual reason working for the CCG (without Hide’s knowing), but nevertheless he’s breathing, his heart is beating, and he’s very, very, very much _alive._

Hide guesses that some part of himself deep down has always known Kaneki was alive somewhere, and since then he’d been determined to find his friend. Even if it meant scouring every nook and cranny of Japan until he ran out of places to look. Honestly, that’s one of the main reasons _why_ he’d joined the CCG in the first place—to look for clues, hell, the minutest of _breadcrumbs_ that could possibly lead him to Kaneki. Not that he would or ever _will_ tell anyone that little fact, though. 

And now the chase has come to a resolution. There are no more dead ends to run into; no more long searches that always prove useless in the end. 

Hide is finally, _finally_ going to see his best friend after what feels like eons of being apart. 

He knows he should be over the moon about this revelation; _ecstatic,_ even, but apprehension is the only thing he finds churning on the inside, like after eating a bad meal. 

When he moves to prop himself up on his bed, his elbow crinkles the files he’d almost forgotten were tucked under him; a small, painful reminder of the reality he has to confront tomorrow. 

Hide sighs. Sits up to where his back slides against his poster-filled bedroom wall, and takes the files into his hands.

Seconds tick by as he just stares at them, and the sudden vibrations that come from his nightstand nearly startle him half to death, causing him to drop the papers.

_Right._ He sucks in a deep breath. _His phone._

Reaching over to grab the device, he disconnects it from his charger and flips it upright. Squints at the blinding white-blue light that strains his eyes when he goes to check the newest notification. Oh. It’s a text from Yuma.

_‘A promotion, huh? And you didn’t think to tell me.’_ Hide bites on his lower lip as an ‘ _oh, shit’_ crosses his mind. Reluctantly, he continues on reading: _‘Cold, Nagachika. Cold. But because you’re my dear partner, I think congratulations are in order. You, me. Drinks. 8:30 tonight on the dot. Haku’s Bar. Don’t be late.'_

He spares a quick glance over at his digital clock. It reads back 8:03 P.M. in blinking, blazing red digits. Twenty seven minutes, huh? The bar shouldn’t be too far from here, so it’s possible to get there on time; he’s just about finished packing his stuff for tomorrow’s transfer, anyway. 

Contemplating whether or not he’s feeling up to it, Hide decides a second later _‘why the hell not?’_ and shoots her a text saying he’ll be there. _On time,_ he makes sure to include. Punctuality is of great importance to Yuma. 

Tossing his phone onto the bed, he leans his head against the wall and rubs his palms into exhausted eyes. 

Who knows, alcohol might just be the key to mollifying his frenzied nerves. Or it could make his nervous state only a gazillion times worse. Whichever it ends up being, Hide doesn’t exactly care at this point because a drink or two sounds heavenly right about now. And partially because he doesn’t want to incur the wrath of one Matsuo Yuma if he were to flake out on her last minute—speaking from (unfortunate) experience. 

Legathrically slipping himself from off his squeaky twin bed, Hide’s already feeding his arms through the sleeves of his beige coat. Gives his bed-head a few brushes here and there to look decently presentable. Then, he slips on his worn white sneakers, slides on his black gloves, and takes off into the chilly autumn night. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


*

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


It’s 8:27 P.M. when Hide arrives at Haku’s Bar, and 8:29 P.M. when he emerges through the double doors. He comes close to shriveling his nose as the pungent aroma of alcohol pierces his nasal cavity. 

It doesn’t take long until he spots Yuma alone at a table near the back, attired in a pristine white blouse; her black hair neatly pinned in a low bun. She seems to notice him a second later, and with an eager hand she frantically waves for him. 

Over the loud music and tumultuous chatter of the bar’s inhabitants, Hide can vaguely make out Yuma calling his name; her voice is most definitely a bit slurred from what he can discern. Judging from that fact paired with her rose-tinged cheeks, she’s probably already had a few drinks—a couple glasses of Umeshu, if he had to wager. Her go-to for when she’s out and about drinking. 

Meandering over to where she sits, Hide carefully navigates around stray legs sticking out from under tables and tries his best not to bump into anyone because _damn_ is this place crowded to its full capacity. When he manages to successfully reach the table without much trouble, he collapses into the chair Yuma oh-so-kindly slides out for him. 

One of the bartenders—a petite young woman with disheveled brown hair—saunters up to their table, pad and pen in hand as she waits for their orders. 

“A highball, please,” says Hide finally. In his peripheral vision, he sees Yuma’s eyebrows soar up to her hairline, and not long after, a grin stretches across her rosy face. 

“Whiskey tonight, eh? Now we’re talking!” She playfully slaps him on the back a few times, eliciting a series of exaggerated ‘ow’s from the younger man before she swivels around to the bartender and throws up two fingers. “Make it two.” 

Surprise colors Hide’s features. “Two right off the bat? Geez, Yuma-san, I gotta take it slow and build up momentum first, y’know.”

Thin brows drawing down, she shoots him a bewildered look. “What’re you blabbering on about? The second one’s for me.” 

He shakes his head with a tiny guffaw. “Heh, of course.”

Their drinks get there shortly after, and Hide wastes not a single second in chugging the alcohol down as if his life depends on it. Yuma looks completely taken aback at the display, but joins in a moment later with reciprocated enthusiasm. 

When he sets a near half-empty glass down and wipes his mouth dry with his shirtsleeve, his partner is just about finished with her own highball. Slinging an arm over his shoulder, Yuma laughs, “I didn’t think you had it in you, Nagachika! You drank that down like it was _water!”_

Hide just shrugs. “Could say the same to you, Yuma-san.”

“Please.” She swipes a hand through the air. “Enough with the honorifics. We’re not at work right now, and it makes me feel old. I’m only six years older than you, you know.”

“Okay, Yuma… _-san!_ ”

The glare she offers him in response would have made Hide cower under its intensity had she been sober. But with the way her pink-colored cheeks puff out and how her lips pucker up, she looks more adorable than intimidating. Hide lets the tease that forms on his tongue dissolve as she rolls her eyes, occupying herself with wiping away the condensation that trickles down the outside of her glass. 

Hide doesn’t say much as she takes a few more swigs, leaving his own drink barely touched. 

Yeah, he takes a couple of generous sips here and there, but it really doesn’t take much for him to start to feel the effects of alcohol seep in. Admittedly, he _is_ a light weight, unlike the woman sitting on his right. 

No words are exchanged between the two for a small while. When Yuma finishes what he assumes is her second glass of highball since he’d gotten here, she punctures the stagnant air with a question, “So, how’s the drink?” 

_“Delectable,”_ Hide drawls. She snorts. 

“You lying to me, or are you being serious?”

“No, I’m dead serious!” he exclaims, and Yuma smiles. 

“I’m glad. I never did get the chance to take you here before. So I figured for such a special occasion, I’d bring you to one of my favorite hole-in-the-wall bars.”

Hide places a hand on his chest. “I’m honored.”

“Damn right, you should be!” 

When Hide’s light laughter fades out after a while, Yuma hunches herself forward again, elbows planted firmly on the table’s mahogany surface. 

She then begins to circle lazy loops around the rim of her empty glass with a finger, taking on a more reminiscent tone as she says, softly, this time, “This place was Suzume’s all-time favorite. There was never a weekend when she wouldn’t drag me here at least once, and we’d end up getting wasted to hell. Now _those,_ those were fun times.” 

Hide feels his shoulders tense upon hearing the name she mentions. 

It’s a fragile topic Yuma rarely, _if ever,_ brings up, so listening to his partner casually say her late significant other’s name without the usual pain that crawls into her voice— _without the grimace she would have worn by now,_ comes as a mild shock to Hide. 

It also somehow reminds him of a certain dichromatic-haired individual who’s been plaguing his conscience for the past two days. 

A frown tugs at the corners of his mouth. Honey-brown eyes blink down at his drink, not quite catching the way Yuma ghosts her hand over the gold locket that adorns her neck. She shifts her focus back to her partner.

“But I digress—enough about me. This is _your_ night!” She delivers a light punch to his arm. “Congratulations, _Rank 2_ Nagachika Hideyoshi! Before you know it, you’ll be climbing up the ranks; taking down ghouls with ease, just like how I kick your ass every time I play you in chess.” 

Despite Yuma’s obvious attempt at lightening the mood, Hide only gives her a perfunctory nod in return. His gaze lingers on the glass, voice barely audible against the loud background of the bar as he responds, “Yeah.”

Dead silence. Then: “Something’s bothering you.” 

_Astute as ever._ Hide huffs, hands encircling his neglected glass as he brushes it off with an exaggerated shrug. Feigns his best half-crooked smile. 

“Nah, it’s nothing, really.”

Bright gray eyes study him for a good minute. 

“I thought we agreed that we wouldn’t lie to each other,” is all she says, and a sigh escapes Hide. There really is no hiding anything from this woman; Yuma’s just about as scarily good at reading people as Hide. 

“So c’mon,” she ventures further, “what’s eating away at you? Don’t tell me it’s about the other day, because if that’s the case, Hide, it’s in no way your faul—”

“It’s not about that, no,” interrupts Hide, quickly— _defensively._ Out of force of habit, he brings a finger to scratch along the edge of his jawline. A nervous tick. “It’s...I… there’s this guy—” 

“Oh, I’m all ears.”

He resists the temptation to roll his eyes, instead giving in to the small smile that rises. “Not like _that._ ” He hesitates before continuing, “This guy, you see, he’s the mentor of the new squad I’ve been assigned to. And I’m looking through his files—like, _really_ looking through them because Mado-san instructed me to, and the more I learn about him, the more he reminds me of a former friend.”

At this, Yuma hums. Settles back into her chair, arms crossed over her chest. 

“This former friend he reminds you of. Do they happen to be _that_ former friend?”

“Yeah.”

She nods. “I can see why it bothers you so much, now that you have to work alongside someone who reminds you of a person you’ve lost. I understand the feeling all too well, because I live with it almost everyday.” 

Brown eyes widen as the words slowly sink in. _She couldn’t really mean…_

“Yuma-san… you don’t actually mean…?”

“That I see Suzume in you?” she finishes his thought, turning to meet his wide eyes. “Yes.”

The word is said with such unadulterated genuineness it practically floors Hide. He struggles to respond, at a complete and utter loss for words. 

Yuma doesn’t allow him to say anything, anyway, as she goes on, “Life has this funny way of throwing people down the path they least expect. And we find ourselves stumbling across others on that path—some of whom happen to remind us of the ghosts of our past; we like to think it’s the universe playing some sort of sick and twisted joke on us. Or, at least, that’s what I used to think. 

“But sometimes… sometimes, that path life paves for us? It just so happens to be the right one, in the end. And those people...those people we meet—even if it’s only one person—they happen to help us along the way.” 

Yuma takes a moment to place a comforting hand over both of Hide’s. Through the thick material of his gloves, he can almost tangibly feel her warmth; it’s there, faint as a feather’s touch, but soothing. “Maybe you’ll find a silver lining in this,” she reassures, giving his hands a gentle squeeze. Hide purses his lips. 

“Yeah, maybe.”

Giving one final squeeze, Yuma retracts her hands and slaps them both on the table. “Alright, serious talk is officially over; emotional baggage is all packed up and settled with. The night’s not getting any younger, and neither are we—so drink up!” 

Grabbing hold of her umpteenth glass of the night, Yuma raises it to Hide. “To new beginnings.” 

Hide raises his own a beat later. 

“To new beginnings,” he repeats, and they drink.

*

The highly anticipated day finally comes (as does the dull ache from his mild hangover), and it finds Hide standing in front of the surprisingly large estate that is the Chateau—residence of the so called Quinxes, who are a batch of rather… interesting individuals he’ll have the chance of meeting for the first time today. 

He looks up. The clouds hanging in the evening sky are dark gray and heavily bloated, threatening to spill with rain at any second the more Hide waits. 

Nervousness itches like tiny little ants crawling under his skin as he hovers an irresolute fist in front of the door. He’d arrived at the Chateau a little over five minutes ago, but somehow can’t conjure enough strength to knock. Just one tap of his knuckles on the door is all it takes. Just one. 

Out of the blue, a sharp pain tightens around his head like a thick rubber band, kindly reminding him of his still-in-the-process-of-healing concussion. He winces as the pain persists for longer than he welcomes. 

Maybe drinking wasn’t the brightest idea when he’s still recovering from a head injury. But it’s not like he can wind back the clock, so what’s the point in complaining about it now?

Relinquishing his hold on his travel suitcase, Hide brings a finger to each temple and gently massages the tender areas. While doing so, he embarks on a different train of thought. Makes sure to do one last rundown of the files, organizing each person into their own overly-simplistic category. 

When he knocks on that door, he’s going to be met with one of the five enigmatic members of his new squad—a seemingly egotistical misanthrope, a brash idiot, a girl whose laziness gets the better of her, a boy so shy it reminds him all too much of his former bookworm of a friend, or the greatest enigma of them all: Sasaki Haise. 

The name lingers like a morning fog in his mind, as does his conversation with Akira from earlier today. He squanders both almost immediately. 

Not wanting to dwell on his muddled thoughts any further, he switches focus to adjusting the scratchy collar of his shirt.

Hide swears he’s soaking right through the fabric of his black turtleneck, he’s sweating so freaking much. _So much so_ that he’s convinced he’ll need to wring out the piece of clothing later today. 

Inhaling deeply once, then twice, and finally thrice for good measure, he prepares to bite the bullet.

_Silver linings,_ he repeats internally. _Silver linings._

He knocks two times, and is kind of shocked when not even five seconds pass before someone is there answering the door. 

Outsteps a teenager of around Hide's stature; his piercingly sharp eyes hold nothing but monotony as he stares at Hide. 

Ah, so it’s the misanthrope. 

Automatically pasting on a lopsided grin, Hide goes to introduce himself to the not-so-impressed, rather skeptical member of his new squad. His mind quickly supplies him with a name— _Urie Kuki_ —before he extends a gloved hand to the younger man. 

“The name’s Nagachika Hideyoshi—but please, call me Hide, if you’d like! I’m the new addition to your squad. Pleasure to make your acquaintance, and all that jazz!”

Urie peers down at the hand; then, to the suitcase Hide holds. Looks back up at Hide, deadpan expression and all.

“We weren’t informed of any new members,” Urie replies in wooden tones. His eyebrows crease down in the faintest way it could almost be imperceptible.

( _Who the hell is this guy?)_

Hide rubs his neck awkwardly. “Well, then, can I talk to your mentor? Coulda sworn he was supposed to tell you guys about my arrival today.”

He can see the way Urie deliberates over this in his head; briefly, it looks like he’s about to glance back into the Chateau foyer, as if he’s ready to call for said mentor, before opting not to. 

Urie drums impatient fingers on the door jamb. 

“Regardless,” he starts, “I can’t allow you to set foot in here when I have no idea who you even are…” Narrow eyes dubiously regard Hide, almost as if Urie is sizing him up. “Safety precautions,” he finishes his half-assed excuse. 

_(Does he really think he can just weasel his way on in here and_ — _)_

“Look...Urie,” Hide begins, his smile a bit weathered. The scowl Urie dons a moment after goes unnoticed by Hide as he continues, “I was assigned to this squad by senior investigator Akira. If you happen to have a problem with that, then I’d take it up with her yourself.” 

Urie feels a vein or two throb to life on his forehead.

_(Why this fuc_ — _)_

“Urie,” comes his mentor’s _(irritating)_ voice, stabbing right through his inner dialogue, “please let the poor man in. It’s starting to rain.”

And let there be rain indeed. Just like his mentor said, light raindrops begin to patter down from above. Hide moves his eyes back and forth between Urie and the door. After a tense moment void of words, Urie snaps around and disappears behind the open door. 

Taking that as his cue, Hide finally steps inside. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


*

There are two swift, near raucous knocks on the door, making Haise glance up from where his eyes are glued to his novel. 

Urie’s quick to answer, gliding over to the door before anyone else has the chance and cracking it open slightly. Haise looks on curiously as Urie begins to converse with whoever’s at the front door. Though the person is barely out of Haise’s line of sight, their voice is still discernible to where he catches the occasional word here and there.

He watches as Urie’s normally vacant face gradually bleeds to blatant annoyance, and decides to finally get up from his spot on the sofa before his subordinate has the chance to unceremoniously slam the door in the stranger’s face. 

“Urie, please let the poor man in. It’s starting to rain,” says Haise, garnering a _‘tsk’_ from the young man; nevertheless, Urie obliges a second later. Curtly spinning on his heel, he takes rigid strides towards the kitchen to resume a peaceful dinner that the person had happened to interrupt. 

Haise just shakes his head at the petulant display, relocating his attention back to the person at the Chateau’s front door. He’s about to utter an apology for his mentee’s brusque behavior, but his feet abruptly stop short from the door. 

Haise notices it the very moment he steps across the threshold—a smell so painfully familiar it floods every sense in his body, eroding any and all coherent thoughts he may have, and drowning out those incessant, taunting little whispers that tug at the loose seams of his conscience. 

For some strange reason Haise can’t quite put his finger on, he smells like home. 

What seems like an eternity stretches on as he stays motionless like this, suspended in the tangled web of time as it hijacks every sense in his body. 

If it were possible to get drunk on smell alone, Haise is almost positive he’d be way beyond the point of intoxication right now. 

“ _Ahhh,_ thank _god_ for your heating system. I was starting to think my ass would freeze off out there! You’re a lifesaver, man, you know that?” 

And just like that, his stupor is shattered asunder, like brittle glass. 

Haise blinks. Once. Twice. Maybe three times? Who’s even counting. Looks at the man now standing in front of him, who’s showcasing a grin so bright it could blind, as he waits for Haise to say something. Shit. _Say something, Haise._

“Er, it’s, uh—it’s no problem!” he fumbles over the words despite himself, hot-white embarrassment taking no time at all creeping up the back of his neck. Or perhaps it’s a blush? Whatever it is, his skin feels much too warm for his liking. 

Why is he reacting like this? His pupils are watching! 

Forcing himself to regain a somewhat collected composure, Haise clears his throat.

“I’m sorry about Urie’s abrasiveness,” he offers sheepishly. “He tends to be like that sometimes.” 

_“More like all the time!”_ Shirazu’s loud voice chimes in from the dining area. Haise immediately hears the faint sound of a fist connecting with shoulder, followed by a sharp _‘what the hell?!’_ from Shirazu. He chooses to ignore the bickering that inevitably ensues soon after. 

Haise scratches his head with a small laugh. “He's a little rough around the edges, but you get used to it.”

“Nah, I totally understand.” Hide swoops his hands through the air. “No hard feelings.”

Prolonged silence. It drapes over them like an all too heavy curtain, with the seconds pulsing by in steady heartbeats as the two just stand there.

Uncomfortable isn’t exactly the word Haise would use; awkward, however, is more of what he feels is the air between them. But it seems like Hide doesn’t seem to mind the awkwardness, which comes as a small relief to Haise.

Hide gives a low whistle, breaking the quiet. “Wasn’t expecting this place to be as big as it is,” he admits, still drinking in the subtle ostentatiousness of the Chateau’s interior. _“Definitely_ an upgrade from my cramped apartment, that I can say for sure.” 

“I’m really sorry about this,” apologizes Haise for the second time today, “I didn’t realize you were coming so soon, Nagachika-san.” 

Hide brushes it off. “It’s no problem at all. I’m here now, aren’t I?” 

He’s glad to see the tentative smile that touches Haise’s face, and soon after, Hide quickly corrects the other, “And just Hide is fine.”

“Hide,” Haise tests the new name on his tongue, and Hide swears his heart stutters in its normally steady rhythm. For a split second, Haise seems to pause, too, and Hide can almost visibly see the cogs whirring in the other man’s brain as he processes the name for longer than he really should. 

Another awkward beat of silence passes. 

“So...introductions?” Hide throws out as a conversation-starter. 

And voila, it happens to work; that’s all it takes for Haise to perk back up to his lively self. 

“Ah, of course!” he exclaims ebulliently. “I’m sure you’ve already read over each of their files, but meeting them in person is a whole different story. Follow me.” Swiveling around in his slippers, Haise is already trekking out of the foyer and into the living space. Hide quickly slides off his own soggy shoes near the front door before catching up to Haise soon after. 

When they enter the living area, where the kitchen also resides, Haise gestures to one of the two at the dining table that isn’t Urie—a young blond who’s sporting a scowl that displays two rows of jagged, dagger-like teeth, akin to that of a shark’s. 

Shirazu Ginshi is his name, if Hide’s not mistaken. And holy _hell,_ do his teeth look more razor-sharp in person. Those things could probably tear through _bricks._

“This over here is Shirazu.” _Right on the money._ “Urie’s the one who answered the door.” 

Neither of the two who were mentioned look up from where they’re bickering with each other. Actually, the bickering is kind of a one-sided effort on Shirazu’s part. Urie seems to be perfectly content with ignoring the other as he picks away at the remainder of his meal. 

“And…” Haise starts, but soon trails off. His eyes flit in every possible direction. “I could’ve sworn Mutsuki was here just a minute ago—”

“Sensei!” interjects a voice from behind. Both Hide and Haise turn to the hallway closest to their right, where a young adult with shoulder length ivy hair emerges into the open space. 

“Speak of the devil,” Haise huffs lightly. 

Mutsuki scurries up to his mentor, a stack of freshly-printed documents secured tightly against his chest. When he reaches them, Haise grabs him by the shoulders with a grin, and the sudden contact nearly makes the younger adult jump out of his skin; a few documents slip out of his grasp and scatter onto the floor. 

“And this here is Mutsuki,” Haise supplies cheerily.

A single olive eye glances over Hide’s figure. He offers Mutsuki a cordial smile, and the gesture is returned, albeit hesitantly. 

“Hide,” Hide introduces himself, holding out a hand. Gnawing on his lower lip, Mutsuki accepts the man’s open hand a half-second later. Hide can’t help but notice that Mutsuki’s grip is a tad bit tense—nervousness, he guesses, and it makes sense. The kid’s as timid as a frail baby bird. 

The handshake is short-lived, ending just as fast as it was initiated. Haise curiously looks over at the younger Quinx. “Did you need anything?” 

Mutsuki shifts. “Um, it...can wait until later, I guess.” 

Giving one swift nod, Haise pats his student’s shoulders twice. “Later it is, then.”

After hurriedly scooping up the fallen papers, Mutsuki doesn’t look back as he retreats into the hallway he hailed from. 

Hide then follows Haise into the kitchen, where he goes to hang up the apron he has yet to take off since cooking over an hour ago. “Saiko is most likely holed up in her room, playing whichever video game she’s fixated on now, I have no doubt.” He sighs, “She’ll come out eventually for a snack, so you can meet her then.” 

“And you, Haise?”

“Hm?” Haise turns to look behind, locking eyes with the blond. 

Something visceral stirs deep within Haise the longer he holds Hide’s gaze, but for some odd reason, he can’t place the feeling. It’s beginning to niggle him, like a word that dangles tauntingly on the tip of one’s tongue, but he pushes it aside. 

Silver eyes look down to where Hide wrings his hands together, then back up. Haise briefly wonders why Hide still hasn’t taken off the gloves now that he’s inside. 

“Your file was, uh, _howshouldIputthis..._ lacking a very large chunk of detail compared to the rest.” 

Haise’s brows raise ever so slightly, his lips forming a small ‘o’. “Oh. Well, I suppose that’s to be expected. I don’t exactly remember the first twenty years of my life.” 

Way to say it with such nonchalance. Though this doesn’t come as a surprise to Hide; he’d already surmised as much, but he fakes a shocked expression, anyway. 

“You remember nothing at all?” He whistles. “That sucks, man.” 

Meanwhile, Haise occupies himself with wiping down the kitchen countertop, adopting a soft expression as he speaks, “It’s not as bad as it may sound. I have a family that I care about, and although they may have unique ways of showing it, I know they feel the same.”

_“Still so sappy,”_ Hide remarks sotto voce, accidentally letting his thoughts slip out into words. 

Haise pauses in his cleaning. Cocks his head to the side. “What was that?”

_Damned ghouls and their heightened senses,_ Hide curses inwardly. 

He fidgets, immediately pointing at the other’s face to cover for his blunder. “Er, I said, your glasses are sliding off!”

Haise blinks before realizing that he’s right. Removes the round frames that sat perched on the bridge of his nose, and hangs them on his shirt collar as he mumbles a tiny _‘thank you’_ in response. 

_So he wears glasses, now,_ Hide thinks after a few moments.

Admittedly, there’s a small part of Hide that thinks the glasses look good on him. Like, _really_ good. They’re a nice compliment to his bookworm-y appearance. 

“Well.” Haise clasps his hands together. “I guess that’s that with introductions. Breakfast is before training, which is usually scheduled around seven in the morning. The training facilities are located on the first floor, so don’t be shy to get some use out of them.” Passing by Hide as he walks over to the sink carrying handfuls of silverware, he shoots him an offer, “You’re always more than welcome to join us for a session.” 

“Of course, yeah,” Hide accepts, leaning back on the island countertop. “And I’ll make sure to check out the facilities later.” 

“Great!” Haise beams. Drops the utensils into the sink and turns on the faucet. “Going back to the topic of breakfast…” he begins as he cleans, “is there anything you’d like food-wise? Put in a request, and I can make a trip to the supermarket tomorrow. Seriously, anything you think you might want, I can make! Like for tonight’s dinner, I cooked up a pretty mean yaki udon.” Louder, this time, he says, “I’m sure one of the Q’s can vouch for my superb cooking?” 

_“The food’s fucking divine_ _—_ _”_

“—It’s adequate.”

The answers are said simultaneously. Shirazu’s glowering intensifies at Urie, who excuses himself from the table and disappears into the hallway Mutsuki had come from. 

“Hey, it smelled good in here when I walked through the door, so I’ll take your word for it.” Hide cracks a grin, and Haise bobs his head in satisfaction. 

Drying his hands off with a towel, Haise gives the kitchen—which was already completely spick-and-span, in Hide’s opinion—one last look-over before approving of its state. 

“Care for a tour?” he suddenly asks, to which Hide’s grin wanes a little. 

“Man, I’d love to… except, I’m kind of beat right now.” Hide runs his fingers through damp hair, stifling the yawn that conveniently rises in his throat. “I was thinking I’d hit the hay for tonight, but I’m sure I can stay awake for at least another hour.” 

“No, no!” Haise protests, waving his hands in front of himself. “It’s fine! Please, get some rest. The tour can wait—this house isn’t going anywhere.” 

“I’d be concerned if it did.”

Haise lets slip a laugh, and Hide joins with his own. 

After the laughter tapers off, Haise asks, “Allow me to walk you to your room?” 

Raising a finger to his chin, Hide looks up to the ceiling consideringly. Nods a couple times, like he’s mulling over whether to say yes or no. The scene only makes the smile on Haise’s face grow as he waits for an answer. And an answer he shall receive, as Hide soon replies with, “Request accepted!”

Without spending one more second in the kitchen, Haise then shows him down the hallway both Mutuski and Urie had gone into. Near the end of it leads to a staircase, and that staircase leads to the third floor of the Chateau, where the private quarters of the Quinx members are located; where Hide’s new bedroom is.

Once on the third floor, they walk three doors down before stopping in front of the fourth door. It’s a room that’s relatively farther from the others, Hide notices. He’s not really complaining, though. 

“Alright-y, we’ve arrived!” Haise announces. Pivots on his heel to face Hide. “Get settled in, unwind and whatnot, and I’ll be out of your hair for the night. If you need anything at all,” he gestures a thumb to the left side of the hallway, “you know where to find me.”

“This…” Hide starts, trying to articulate the right words, “thank you. For showing me a little portion of your _humble abode_. Oh, and I forgot to say this earlier, but…”

He outstretches his right hand. 

Haise takes it into his own, and they shake.

“It’s nice to meet you, Sasaki-san.” 

“Haise, please,” he amends with a gentle tone. 

A dull pain flares in Hide’s chest.

He ignores it.

“Haise." The name tastes all different types of wrong in Hide’s mouth, but he swallows it down. 

It’s Haise who is first to pull away. 

When he does, there's a tiny crack in his usually effervescent smile. However, it disappears just as soon as Hide catches it.

“It’s nice to meet you, too, Hide. Welcome to the Quinx Squad.” 

And with those final words for the night, Haise turns and vanishes around the corner of the hallway, leaving Hide alone, and the hand at his side, cold. 

*

Hide shuts the guest bedroom door with careful hands. 

When he’s finally by himself in the dark confines of his new room, his knees threaten to buckle right then and there from under him. Had he not caught himself on the doorknob in time, his body surely would have already been sprawled out on the floor by now. 

Man, coming here today, Hide never expected that _this_ would be the reaction Sasaki Haise pulls from him. 

Then again, what exactly _was_ he expecting?

Dropping his suitcase to the side, he wipes an exasperated hand over his face. Feels as rough leather trails down the contours of his face before discarding the gloves completely. He yanks them off and tosses them near his suitcase with a drawn-out sigh, flipping on the lightswitch. 

Hide decides to study the bedroom he’ll be temporarily staying in; it’s fairly large, with him realizing that it’s _much_ bigger than the one in his apartment. Though it is a bit sparse in furniture and decor, the room is nonetheless as tidy as it is spacious. 

A dark oak bookcase lines the opposite wall from where he stands, four shelves replete with books that range from a plethora of different colors and sizes. Adjacent to it is the bed, situated snugly against the wall with a curtained window overhead. The comforter, however, looks to be inadequate for withstanding temperatures that dip below eighteen degrees celsius at night; it seems more like a sheet than a thick blanket, it’s so paper-thin. Hide makes a quick mental note to ask for more blankets tomorrow, too lazy to bother anyone about it at the moment. 

For now, he’ll unpack. Make himself comfortable as he begins integrating into the squad, because once tomorrow rolls around, it’s rigorous work and many all-nighters from here on out. He’ll be expected to contribute to the Dollmaker case—he’s been given this promotion as both an opportunity and a privilege after all, and he’ll do his damn best to prove that he fully deserves it. 

Meaning Hide can’t allow himself to be distracted. _At any cost._

Speaking of distractions… Hide pauses in the middle of dissecting the contents of his suitcase. He chews over the previous hour’s events. 

So far, he’s met three of the Quinx squad members—excluding Haise. And from initial impressions… oh boy, is Hide going to have a difficult time mingling with these folks. But that’s just one of the many bulwarks he’ll eventually have to overcome during his time spent on this squad. It’s a temporary adjustment, like Akira said. But then again, temporary is just a word. Temporary can always turn into permanent.

Honestly, who knows what the foreseeable future holds at this point. Hide certainly doesn’t, so why waste his energy worrying about it?

He licks his lips. Closes his eyes as his headache from earlier returns in full force. He can almost feel the dark bags under his eyes as he rubs circles into them.

Thinking back now, recognition didn’t dawn on Kaneki’s face, nor did it flicker in the pools of his gray eyes. Or if it did, then he was exceptionally good at concealing it. Kaneki always was good at hiding things from others, wasn’t he? 

_No_ —Hide purges the thought of his former friend’s name without hesitation—it’s _Haise,_ now _,_ he reinforces, and although there’s a twinge of hurt deep in his chest, he quickly distinguishes the feeling. 

His mind drifts in another direction; to Akira’s words, earlier this morning. 

Their conversation had begun with what he expected: the usual talk of transfer, new information he’d need to know, a few names were thrown around, etcetera, etcetera.

Near the end of her briefing, though, Akira found it important to bring awareness to the fact that Hide would be working with a half-ghoul, Sasaki Haise, whose memory had been wiped clean. Details of Haise were nothing short of vague at best, but Akira made it abundantly clear that he’d been made a blank canvas for the CCG to paint whatever benefited them. Above all, Haise was tasked with the responsibility of cultivating an investigator that could rival—no, _surpass_ Arima Kishou and his inhuman investigative abilities. 

Hide had asked her about his new squad's mentor. He wasn’t bringing forth any concerns so much as he was genuinely curious about working alongside a ghoul—and, to be honest, he mainly asked in an attempt to squeeze any more drops of information he could about Haise; it didn’t hurt to try, and he was desperate.

What Akira said in response was not quite what Hide had anticipated.

_“‘If you know your enemy and yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles,’” she’d recite to a confused Hide that morning. She took a step forward. “‘If you know yourself but not the enemy, for every victory gained you will suffer a defeat.’”_

_Another step, and she stood directly in front of him._

_“‘If you know neither the enemy nor yourself, you will succumb in every battle.’”_

_“The Art of War,” he’d responded not long after, somewhat familiar with the literature. Akira had smiled._

_Then, she delivered her final words, succinct and straight to the point: “There are three conditions you need to know about and adhere to when working with Haise. One: he is to be treated as human. His ghoul side is mostly tamed, but should nature overrule nurture and he loses control, he is to be eliminated. No questions asked. Your job as a CCG investigator is to eradicate the threat of ghouls, Investigator Nagachika. I expect you understand this. That is the second condition.”_

What she said right after had shook Hide to his core. 

_“And three: you cannot let slip his true name. Never refer to him by the moniker of Kaneki Ken. Do not make this mistake.”_

The conversation ended there. Before he’d even had the chance to react in any way, she graced him with a final ‘good luck’, and they’d gone their separate ways. 

Hide replays her words over in his head even as he pulls the covers up and crawls into bed. They replay as he sets his head down on his pillow, and as he closes his eyes to darkness.

_Know your enemy as intimately as yourself, huh?_

Hide knows what it means, but something tells him that she’s not only referring to ghouls.

Heh. That’ll be the day, when Hide, of all people, views _Kaneki Ken_ as the enemy. He would laugh outright at the idea if the circumstances were any different. Except they're not. They never _will_ be.

Sasaki Haise is a weapon forged by the CCG; reduced to a blank slate—a hollow husk of who he used to be, _who he isn’t allowed to be,_ whose only purpose is to fulfill the role of a living quinque. Just like the Quinxes. 

But he is also a double-edged sword; within him is a ticking time bomb that can detonate at any given moment, capable of unleashing upon the CCG a beast that is best kept secured behind amnesiac bars.

And when he does break free from those bars, he'll be killed.

Hide rolls over in his bed.

Like any other night, sleep doesn’t come easy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Funny story. So I’m rereading Tokyo Ghoul :re for the umpteenth time, right? Because I need a refresher in order to write this story to the best of my ability. And as I’m reading, I come to remember that there’s already a character named Yuma...y’all, please forgive my smooth brain™. I swear I didn’t intend to make this mistake. I have my fair share of dumb moments, so bear with my stupidity. 
> 
> Anyway, thanks for reading! Stay safe out there in the real world, y’all. Much love.


End file.
